To My Gentle Dictator – Chapter 023

It was common for couples to argue before their wedding.

But with a groom like Ulrich? Just looking at his face should be enough to dispel any anger.

Madame Sonya sighed, thinking of her own insufferable husband.

“Fine. It’s far from the latest trend, but if you like it and it’s not completely awful, I suppose we can leave it. But from what I see, the real issue here is your makeup. You there, put that down and redo the bride’s eye makeup. You’ve put way too much mascara on.”

“I… I’m not wearing any mascara…”

Sasha muttered timidly.

Madame Sonya snorted again, but instead of responding, she took a cleansing tissue from one of her assistants and approached Sasha, wiping at her eyes herself.

Sasha sat frozen, like a mannequin, unable to move.

When Madame Sonya confirmed that there was indeed no mascara or false lashes, her expression changed.

“My, my… It’s not just the color; you were born with them. Other women would sell their souls for eyes like yours, so what exactly is troubling you? Come on, relax, and picture yourself on your wedding day. We only have two weeks—we need to make decisions quickly. Surely, you must have imagined your wedding dress since you were a little girl, like every other bride?”

That hit the mark.

The wedding dress Sasha had envisioned as a child was the one in her parents’ wedding photo—the dress her mother had worn.

Not because she had particularly liked it, but simply because that had always been the plan.

Her mother had constantly reminded her that one day, she would pass the dress down to her.

As if she knew best what her daughter wanted. As if the dress carried some sort of divine blessing.

But Sasha had never truly wanted to marry Vasily. She had never truly wanted to wear her mother’s dress.

Whenever she imagined herself in that gown, standing beside Vasily at the altar, she had felt suffocated rather than excited.

Now, she was set to marry Ulrich instead.

And no matter what sentimental value it held, wearing the wedding dress of a foreign-born empress who had been purged would be a dangerous mistake.

Still, Madame Sonya had made a point.

I need a new standard.

The thought of standing at the altar, watched by the highest-ranking military officials and countless other eyes, sent shivers down her spine. But Sasha straightened her shoulders, steeling herself.

Just think of Ulrich. No matter what, I can’t afford to ruin this for him.

It was around the time that she and Madame Sonya finally agreed on a dress design that Yakov entered the bustling hall.

“Apologies for interrupting, but the Director has a message for you.”

“Ulrich…?”

Sasha quickly excused herself from Madame Sonya and stepped out to take the call.

Her heart pounded wildly as she lifted the receiver.

“This is Sasha speaking.”

She still wasn’t used to answering the phone.

After a brief silence, a familiar, velvety voice hummed through the line, sending shivers down her spine.

“Shura. I need a favor.”

* * *

Ulrich had forgotten some important documents at the townhouse.

It was a simple errand—something an agent or a servant could easily retrieve for him.

But he had specifically asked Sasha to bring them herself.
“I thought we could have dinner together. Dress nicely.”

And so, a few minutes later, Sasha found herself standing in the middle of her dressing room.

When she had first been led into this enormous room a few days ago, she had nearly fainted. Even after several visits, it still left her speechless.

It was larger than the dressing room she had as a princess.

Everywhere she looked, pristine clothing from famous brands hung untouched, the tags still attached.

Coats, dresses, evening gowns, loungewear, and even nightgowns were neatly arranged in wardrobes and on racks, sorted meticulously like a department store display.

She would never have to worry about clothing again.

Ulrich had told her not to. And he had meant it.

The collection extended beyond clothes—rows of shoes, stockings, gloves, scarves, and handbags lined the shelves in every imaginable style and color. It would take her days just to fully take it all in.

And that wasn’t all.

Sasha had let out several audible gasps as she examined the movie star-worthy vanity, surrounded by mirrors, covered with every kind of cosmetic product she could imagine.

The drawers were filled with glimmering jewelry—an array of colors, shapes, and styles.

She couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

For the past three years, she had used nothing but cheap lotion, worn the most affordable clothes she could scavenge from the black market, and even picked up discarded garments from the trash to rotate through the seasons.

Shoes were no exception.

Proper undergarments and stockings had long been an unaffordable luxury. She hadn’t even owned a real handbag—just a small crocheted purse and a hand-knitted shopping bag.

And now, it was as if the gates of heaven had opened, surrounding her with dazzling, extravagant things.

It felt like time had rewound, like she was back in her life as a princess.

Even amidst her daze, a fleeting thought crossed her mind:

Will this entire dressing room even fit in the government residence?

Since accepting Ulrich’s proposal, she had been living in this massive townhouse until the wedding.

Once married, she would move into the official residence with him.

As for Kiril, he was staying in a hotel near the academy until his dormitory opened.

Sasha had hoped he would stay with her until then, but through Ulrich, Kiril had made it clear that he had no interest.

Still, both of them had left their old, rundown apartment behind, and for that, she could only be grateful.

That apartment, with its broken heating, had held nothing of value—nothing worth taking, no sentimental keepsakes.

It had been a place filled only with misery.

“He’s such a generous man.”

It was overwhelming enough that Ulrich had given Kiril a future. That alone made her feel so grateful she could cry.

But he had also saved her from her wretched life. He had even given her this.

The only way she could repay him was to be the kind of wife he needed.

The thought of that made her happy.

She had to do her best.

And that started with getting used to being seen again—by him, by others.

“After everything he’s done, he’d be disappointed if I showed up looking pitiful.”

More than that… she wanted to be beautiful.

She wanted Ulrich to find her beautiful.

The fact that he had asked her, personally, to bring the documents made her happy.

That he had suggested dinner together made her even happier.

It felt like stepping back in time—back to that summer three years ago.

A mix of fear and excitement churned inside her as she reached for the cosmetics on the vanity.

It had been so long since she had properly done her makeup that her hands trembled slightly.

But strangely, her body remembered exactly what to do, as if no time had passed at all.

She had gained some weight now that she was eating and resting properly, and her hair and skin had regained their natural shine.

She kept her makeup light on purpose.

As for her hair, she considered styling it differently but ultimately brushed it out and let it flow naturally down her back.

The real problem was choosing what to wear.

Surrounded by an overwhelming selection of clothes and shoes, she had no idea where to start.

As the clock ticked steadily forward, Sasha finally settled on a slate-blue velvet dress.

She slipped on sheer stockings—thin, silky nylon that shimmered under the light.

“I forgot how much of a miracle invention stockings are.”

She picked out a matching black patent leather handbag and heels, then added a pair of small pearl earrings before checking her reflection over and over.

Finally, stepping out of the dressing room, a maid approached her and silently zipped up the back of her dress.

As she followed the maid’s lead down the hallway, Sasha carefully held her breath.